Intentions
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Joe's history teacher wants more than good grades. With Frank against him, will Joe be able to handle his teacher's demands? Warnings: sexual situations but with no graphic overtones
1. Default Chapter

"Oh man, I hate history," blond-headed, blue-eyed seventeen year old Joe Hardy moaned as he sat pouring over his notes. "Who cares what happened in ancient Egypt?"

"Are you kidding?" asked Joe's year older, brown-haired, brown-eyed brother, Frank. "Mummies, pyramids, pharaohs, that stuff is cool."

"Then you go take my test for me," Joe told him, pushing his notebook back and standing up. He stretched. "I've got to have a break," he said. "I think I'll head down to the burger joint," he said. "Wanna come?"

"If you don't pass your test, Dad's not going to let you solve any more mysteries until your grades come back up," Frank warned him.

"I know," Joe said. "But I'm not worried. I've been studying for hours and I've paid close attention in class. There's no way I am not going to pass this test. I just need a little break and I'll come back and study some more later," he promised.

"Okay," Frank said. He shook his head. "I'm going to pass," he said. "I've got an exam in chemistry tomorrow so I'm going to study some more."

Joe shook his head in disgust as Frank buried his head in his book. Frank was a straight A student. He had a photographic memory for crying out loud. He didn't need to study, but that's all he ever did, all night, before an exam. Joe wished he could be a great student, but no, he had to keep hearing how he should be more studious like Frank. His parents always got so excited over Frank's straight A's. His own report cards had an A or two too. Okay, so he made a few C's and B's, but he tried hard. He just couldn't always understand what his teachers were talking about.

Joe made his way to Bob's Burger Joint and went inside. The only person he saw that he normally hung out with was Callie so after he got his food he strolled over and took a seat opposite her.

"Gave up on studying?" she asked. Blond-haired, green-eyed, seventeen-year old Callie Shaw was his brother's girlfriend, but they had history together.

Joe nodded. "You too?" he asked.

"Too many gods," she said with a shake of the head.

"Those were easy," Joe said. "My problem is remembering which pyramid belonged to which pharaoh and when each one was found," he added, picking up his burger and taking a bite out of it.

"How about we go to the library?" Callie suggested. "I'll help you with your trouble and you help me with mine?"

"Deal," Joe said. "Maybe we can both pass this monster test."

Three and a half hours later Joe returned home. "Where have you been?" Frank demanded when Joe walked into the house. "You said you were going to come back and study."

"Chill," Joe ordered. "I bumped into your girlfriend at Bob's Burger Joint. We went to the library and studied together. She was up on the pharaohs and helped me out and I led her down the path lined with tribute," he said. "Those Egyptians were really messed up. I thought only the Greeks had so many do's and don'ts when it related to the gods."

"Well, let's go to bed," Frank said, no longer angry. "You've got to pass that test tomorrow so you need a good night's rest." Frank couldn't bare it if Joe failed this test. Their dad had said in no uncertain terms that if Joe failed his history exam then there would be no more detective work for him until the report cards came out and he had raised all his grades to at least B's.

"Yahoo!" Joe said, coming into the lunch room the next day and sitting down with Frank and their friends, blond, beefy Biff Hooper, chubby blond Chet Morton, and dark-haired, olive-skinned, Tony Prito. "I passed!"

"You got your score already?" asked Callie, joining them.

"No," Joe admitted. "But I aced it. It was easy," he added. "What say we all go out tonight and celebrate?"

"Better wait until Dad sees the grade," Frank advised. "You're still grounded because of the last bad grade you brought home."

"I don't see what the fuss is all about," Chet said. "I bring home C's and D's all the time."

"Yeah, but our deal was that our investigating wouldn't interfere with our grades," Joe said.

"Which means, we have to keep or improve the grades we were making before we started solving mysteries," Frank said. "Joe's been letting his slide."

"I know, I know," Joe said, exasperated. He had heard this from Frank before. "I'm trying now. Really!" Joe insisted when everyone looked at him.

After lunch, Joe went to his locker to grab his books. He had study hall next period and he was going to work on his homework. Arriving at class, Mr. Davis informed Joe that his history teacher had requested he report to his room instead. Frowing, Joe went to see Mr. Johnson.

"Hello, Joe," Mr. Johnson said as Joe entered. "Come in and close the door." Joe came in and sat down in a chair in the front row and looked at his teacher. Brad Johnson was new this year. He had moved from some place out west and started teaching at Bayport High School when the old history teacher left on maternity leave a couple of weeks ago. He was a tall man with black hair and steely blue eyes. He was muscular and it was obvious he worked out a lot. Not an inch of fat could be seen on him and this was unusual for a man who weighed in at two hundred and sixty pounds.

Mr. Johnson put down the eraser he had been using to clear the board and came over to Joe and sat on the edge of the desk. Joe hated being crowded, but he couldn't very well tell his teacher to back up. "I've been looking over your grades for this term and they aren't very good," Mr. Johnson told Joe. "Today's test was of extreme importance to your grade. Nothing less than a B would keep you from failing this class."

"I know," Joe said. "But I think I aced this one. I studied a lot and I am going to put more effort into my studies," he promised.

"You will need to," Mr. Johnson said. "I suggest you have a tutoring session, say twice a week," Mr. Johnson stated to Joe's surprise. "I will help you pass this class, but you will need to come over to my house for your sessions."

"So I did make a B or an A on this test?" Joe asked.

"That depends," Mr. Johnson said, staring into Joe's eyes.

"On what?" Joe asked.

"On whether or not you will let me tutor you."

"I'll get tutoring," Joe agreed. "My brother's real smart and I'm sure he won't mind to.."

"I said, I will tutor you," Mr. Johnson said.

"I appreciate that," Joe said, smiling a bit uneasily. Mr. Johnson had risen and walked behind him and set his hands on Joe's shoulders. "But there's no sense in your using your free time for that," Joe told him. "We can make arrangements so you'll know I'm getting..."

"That's not good enough, Joseph," Mr. Johnson said. "If you want to pass this test, you will let me teach you."

"Teach me what?" Joe asked with a dry throat.

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Mr. Johnson asked, massaging Joe's shoulders. "This is a required course. You play by my rules, you pass this class. If you don't cooperate, not only do you fail this class, but also your junior year." 


	2. Chapter Two

Joe swallowed and moved away from his teacher. He stood up and turned to look at him. "I , uh," he muttered, not really sure how to handle the situation.

"Take your time, Joe," Mr. Johnson said. "You don't have to be at my house until tomorrow night at six. You know my address?" he asked. At Joe's nod, he continued. "We will not discuss this again. By the way, I'm giving a quiz in class tomorrow. It will count as 10 of the grade. Are you going to pass?" he asked, then left the room, leaving Joe to think about his ultimation.

Joe felt sick. He left the room and went to the boy's bathroom and threw up. He had to talk to his dad. He would know how to handle this. No way he was going to tell Frank. Knowing Frank, he would probably go ballistic and beat the teacher to a pulp. Joe knew Frank would always protect him, but this time, that protection might put Frank in jail and Joe would never let that happen.

Joe skipped the rest of his classes and took the van and drove home. "Where's dad?" Joe asked his petite, blond-headed mother when he walked in the kitchen door a few minutes later.

"He's in his office," Laura Hardy responded with a frown at her youngest son. "What's wrong?" she demanded. "Has something happened to Frank?"

"No," he quickly assured his mother. " I just really need to talk to dad," he added, heading upstairs.

"Joe?" asked, brown-haired, brown-eyed, Fenton Hardy when Joe walked into the room he had converted into an office. "What's wrong? Where's Frank?"

"He's still at school," Joe said, coming inside and sitting down in front of his dad. "I've got a problem with my history teacher," he began.

"I don't want to hear it," Mr. Hardy told his son before he could continue. "You're grades have been going downhill for some time now. I expect to see those grades improved drastically or no more mysteries," he said sternly. "And your skipping classes isn't helping you at all," he added.

"But Mr. Jo..." Joe tried to tell his dad.

"No buts," ordered his father. "Go back to school. If you are having a problem with your teacher, talk to him and work it out." Joe sat still, stunned because his father wouldn't even listen to him. "Go to school!" ordered Mr. Hardy again.

Joe silently got up and left. He arrived back at school just as his study hall was ending. He went to his locker and removed his algebra book. Frank came up behind Joe and put a hand on his shoulder. Joe jumped and spun around.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked, upset by Joe's response.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Joe said, turning back to his locker and refusing to look Frank in the face.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Frank asked, hurt at Joe's dismissal.

"Yeah," Joe said and closed his locker. "I'm going to be late for class," he said and walked away.

After school, Joe skipped football practice and walked home. He went straight to his room and began studying. Maybe if he did his homework right and took the tests and passed, he could save his papers and prove his teacher was failing him without cause. It was the only option he could think of. Not hungry, he skipped dinner and went to bed early.

The next day he went to history class with a stomach full of butterflies. Would Mr. Johnson say something that would give himself away? Would Joe have the evidence he needed by the end of the period to prove to his dad he really needed help? 'Man,' Joe thought , 'this is worse than giving a report in front of the entire school!'

"All right everyone," said Mr. Johnson entering the room. "Terri, please pass these out," he said to a shapely, brunette who sat in the front row. He handed her a stack of papers. "This quiz will count for ten percent of your grade." The class broke out into groans. "Now, now," he continued. "It isn't as bad as you might think," he added. "For some, this could be considered a freebie," he paused slightly as he looked at Joe. "When you finish with your exam, bring it and put it on my desk. I'll let you have your grade as you leave."

"Oh no," Callie said, looking at the exam. "I'm doomed."

Joe looked at the paper. They were questions about the deities. Some of the ones not covered on the exam. He spent ten minutes marking answers and turned his paper in. In less than twenty minutes everyone had turned in their exams and were spending the time reading on the night's homework. Five minutes before the bell, Mr. Johnson went to each desk and gave the papers back.

"Yes," Callie said, looking at her paper. She had gotten a ninety. Joe flipped his test over and looked at his grade. He had gotten a fifty-four. He put the test face down on his desk.

"Turn your papers in before you leave the room," Mr. Johnson ordered his students. Joe was the last one to stand up when the bell rang. "You can change that to a hundred," Mr. Johnson reminded Joe as he laid his test on the teacher's desk. Joe nodded his understanding and left the room.

As he exited the door, he walked into Callie who had been waiting for him. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Joe said, stepping around her and heading for the exit. Callie followed him.

"I cheated on that test," Callie admitted after they were outside. Joe turned and looked at her. "I couldn't afford to lose ten percent of a grade," she said.

She tried to look him in the eyes, but he avoided her. "I changed four answers so it wouldn't look like I had copied." Joe turned around and started walking for the baseball field. Callie had to run to keep up with his long strides.

"Don't you want to know who I copied off of?" she asked him.

"Stanley?" Joe guessed, knowing it wasn't so, but naming a person who sat near Callie besides himself.

"It was you," she said, catching up to him and grabbing his arm and spinning him around. "So if I cheated off you and got a ninety, how come you only got a fifty-four?"

"How should I know?" Joe asked, shaking off her arm and going off behind the bleachers. He sat down on the ground and, hugging his knees, buried his head. Callie came over and sat down beside him.

"What's going on?" she asked him gently. Joe never answered her. "Have you talked to Frank?" she asked.

"Mind your own business!" Joe shouted, looking up at her, silent tears streaming down his face.

"You are my business when you're hurting," she told him, pushing some stray hairs away from his eyes. "I love your brother and that means I care about you too," she added, pulling him close and holding him while he cried.

"Then you can't tell Frank," Joe said.

"Can't tell Frank what?" Frank said, coming up with Chet and Biff. They had seen Joe and Callie sneak out of school and followed.

"Nothing," Joe said, hiding behind Callie until he had wiped his eyes.

"What are you two doing out here?" Frank asked. Chet and Biff were looking at Callie and Joe like they had just committed a crime. Frank seemed to be in a state of shock.

"Just talking," Callie answered Frank.

"It really looked like it," Frank sneered.

"Easy bro," Joe said, standing up in front of Callie.

"I can't believe this," Frank said. "How could you?"

"How could we what?" Callie demanded, standing up.

"Shut up," Frank snapped at her. "How could you? I trusted you!" Frank shouted at Joe.

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked, confused.

"You're messing around with Callie behind my back," Frank spat out. "You're not my brother. Not anymore." 


	3. Chapter Three

"What?" Joe whispered. His mind frozen with all the emotions running through him.

"You don't know what you're saying," Callie said softly. "We weren't doing anything."

"Yeah, and I thought you were different than most girls," Frank said. "But you're just like all the others. You just have to go googly eyes over Joe. Well, go ahead. As far as I'm concerned, neither of you even exist anymore."

Callie looked Frank in the eyes, her own green ones filled with unshed tears and shattered dreams. Then she never spoke, she just took off running for the parking lot.

"You really are a lame brain, you know that?" Joe yelled at Frank. "You just hurt the one person who cares about you almost as much as I do."

"Yeah, I saw how much you care!" Frank snarled. "You know, you don't even matter. I don't know why I ever bothered hanging out with you anyway," he added, turning around and starting back to the school building.

"You know, one day you're going to find out how wrong you really are, and there won't be any way for you to fix the damage you've just done," Joe said quitely before Frank had gotten out of earshot. "You and Dad, you have no idea what's going on. It doesn't really matter, I guess. At least I'm finding out what is so very important to you. It isn't me. It's the fact that you're afraid dad won't let you solve mysteries on your own. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Dad is proud of you. You're Mr. Perfect. You get good grades, you dress well, you always do the right thing. You never make a mistake and you never need anyone. Well, guess what? I need you. I need help. I need Mom and Dad, but no one wants to listen to me. If I don't bring my grades up, I might as well not exist," Joe said this last so low that no one heard him.

"You want help?" Frank asked, spinning around and looking at Joe. "I'll give you help. Ask me for anything. I'll do my best to help, but not unless you pass your history class. You want my trust, my understanding, my love? Earn it back. Prove you care about something other than who you're going to go out with or what you're going to wear to the next party. Pass history. Take something seriously."

"You don't know what you're asking," Joe told him, his breathing haggard.

"I know," Frank argued. "You just don't care."

Frank turned and walked back into the building followed by Chet. Biff hung around to talk to Joe. "What was that all about?" he demanded. "Don't you know how much you just hurt Frank?"

"Hurt Frank?" Joe exploded, angrier than he had ever been. "I've lost my brother and my best friend because I've been trying not to get him hurt!" Joe shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Biff demanded, confused.

"Never mind," Joe said and tried to brush past Biff but he reached out and grabbed Joe's arm and held tight.

"What do you mean?" he asked again, forcing Joe to look at him.

"I mean, Callie knows and she was just trying to give me some support because I was having trouble handling something which even my own family won't help me with," Joe told him, the tears starting again. "I can't do what Frank wants," he added. "If I do, I might as well be dead." 


	4. Chapter Four

"What are you talking about?" Biff asked more softly, letting go of his grip on Joe. Joe shook his head and headed for the parking lot. He went to the van and climbed in and took off. Biff went back inside and found Frank already sitting in their next class. "Frank," he said. "I think maybe you were wrong."

"You saw them," Frank said. "They were hugging each other."

"I saw Callie hugging Joe," Biff said. "But I don't think it was a romantic hug."

"Then you're blind," Frank spat back at him.

"Maybe you are," Biff said. "Joe said he needed help. He's your brother. Are you really going to let him down?" Biff moved to the back of the room. He wasn't feeling much like sitting beside Frank anymore.

Frank had trouble concentrating during class and he was more than a little relieved later that day, when the bell sounded, ending classes. He decided to walk home rather than beg a ride because he needed to clear his head and the cool air might help. By the time he got home it was almost six o'clock. He expected to see the van in the driveway, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm home," Frank said, coming in the front door.

"Hey," Mrs. Hardy said, coming in from the kitchen to meet him. "What kept you so long? We were starting to worry."

Frank put his backpack down and followed her into the kitchen where his dad was sitting at the table having a cup of coffee. "Joe and I had a fight," he told them, sitting down. "He took the van and I walked home," he added, not telling them Joe had left school before the end of classes.

"Three hours?" Mr. Hardy inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"I needed to think," Frank said by way of explanation. "Where's Joe?"

"He left a few minutes ago," Mr. Hardy said. "I can't believe that kid," he added angrily. "I forbade him from working on any mysteries and what do I find him doing? He was on my computer accessing the FBI files." Mr. Hardy set his cup down on the table and leaned back in the chair. "I grounded him. Told him he wasn't allowed to go anywhere but school for the rest of the month. An hour later, he walks into the living room and tells me he has arranged to get private tutoring for his history class. I tried to argue with him, but he said he had to have the tutoring or he wouldn't pass the class and you'd never forgive him."

Mrs. Hardy came over and sat down with the two. "What did he mean by that?" she asked Frank.

"I caught him and Callie behind the bleachers," Frank said, his face contorting into a frown. "I told him if he ever wanted me to forgive him then he would have to prove he had more on his mind than girls."

"I don't believe it," Mrs. Hardy said, her blue eyes wide. "Joe would never do that to you."

"Yeah, I used to think that too," Frank said, looking down.

"Do you think maybe Joe is losing it?" Frank asked when no one had said anything for a few minutes.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Mr. Hardy admitted. "He's been through so much this last year. First losing Iola, then Vanessa leaving for England with her mom. He's been kidnapped at least five times this year and hospitalized three. He's only seventeen," he added and looked over at Frank. "You and your brother are such great detectives, I tend to forget you are still kids. Maybe I've been pushing too hard."

"Don't," Frank told his dad. "Iola wasn't your fault and Joe and Vanessa were already on the verge of breaking up when she left," Frank reminded him.

"He came to me and asked for help today, but I wouldn't listen to him," Mr. Hardy continued with a twinge of guilt, not even hearing Frank. "I should have listened."

"I tried to get him to talk to me, but he wouldn't," Frank said. "It can't be too bad," he reasoned.

Across town, Joe pulled the van to a stop in front of Mr. Johnson's house. His stomach hurt and he felt like throwing up, but he didn't know what else he could do. His dad didn't want anything to do with him unless he passed. His mom had told him before he had returned to school that she wasn't going to get involved. This was between him and his father. And Frank... And Frank, Joe thought. Frank was the real reason he was here. He could handle not solving any more mysteries. He couldn't handle losing his brother. If it meant doing this, then he would. He took a couple of deep breaths and got out of the van.

He knocked on the door. Mr. Johnson opened the door and smiled at Joe. "Hi," Joe said. "I'm here for my tutoring session."

"Come on in," Mr. Johnson said. Joe walked inside, and the door closed behind him.

Across the street, a young man was watching the scene with a frown on his face. After the door closed, he crossed the street and crouched in the bushes beneath the living room window. He peered inside to watch.

"Sit down Joe," Mr. Johnson said, showing Joe to the sofa. Joe sat down. "How about a drink?"

"No thank you, Sir," Joe said, sitting stiff.

"Let's not be so formal here," Mr. Johnson said, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. "Call me Brad." He walked over and sat down beside Joe. He took Joe's hand and put the glass into it. "Drink it," he ordered. "It will help you loosen up."

Joe took the glass and lifted it to his lips. He took a little sip. It tasted like carbonated punch. He downed the rest of the contents in one gulp.

"Easy," Brad said, laughing softly. "First glass, huh?" Joe nodded and leaned over to set the glass down but Brad took it from him, touching his hand. Joe's stomach churned and he jerked away.

Brad sat back. "You really don't want to be here, do you?" he asked, looking at Joe's stiff profile.

"What do you think?" Joe asked softly.

"I'll be gentle, I promise," Brad said, reaching over and unbuttoning Joe's shirt. "After tonight, it won't be so bad. You're just dreading it because you don't know what to expect," he assured Joe. He had finished unbuttoning Joe's shirt and ran a finger down the length of Joe's chest. Joe swallowed anxiously.

Brad reached for the buckle on Joe's belt. "I want to see you," Brad said. Joe closed his eyes and sat still as Brad began unbuckling his belt. 


	5. Chapter Five

Biff watched as Joe climbed into the van at the Hardy residence and left. He started his engine and followed at a discreet distance. The Hardys were his best friends and he couldn't sit idly by and watch Frank and Joe fall apart. He intended to find out what was going on and help, even if he had to beat the two of them to a pulp in the process.

Joe pulled to a stop in the driveway of a one story brick house. Biff watched Joe as he sat there doing nothing for a few minutes and then slowly got out of the van and went to the door. Biff saw Joe's history teacher open the door and Joe went inside. He made his way across the street and crouched down in the bushes by the living room window.

What he saw made his stomach churn and his flesh crawl. Mr. Johnson was all over Joe. Poor Joe was doing his best to keep from throwing up but he couldn't keep the tears from streaming down his cheeks. Biff clenched his fists. He had to stop this. He got up and went to the front door and knocked.

"Blast it!" shouted Brad. "Stay here," he told Joe. "I'll get rid of whoever it is." He got up and went to answer the door.

"Hello," Biff said, forcing a smile onto his face. "I saw Joe's van outside. Can I speak to him?"

"He is being tutored for my class," Brad told him. "Perhaps you could see him tomorrow at school," he added, attempting to shut the door.

"Oh, but it's very important," Biff insisted, blocking the door from closing.

"Wait here," Brad ordered, suppressing an angry sigh, and went into the living room.

Joe was sitting where Brad had left him. "Fix your clothes," Brad said. "Next time, park your van elsewhere," he added. He smiled at Joe as he rose and fastened his clothes. "Thanks for coming," Brad whispered in Joe's ear as he started for the door. He kissed Joe's cheek. Joe gave a slight nod to acknowledge he had heard and went to the door and saw Biff.

"Hey Joe," Biff said. "I was passing by and realized we really needed to finish what we were talking about earlier. I'm sorry, but it really can't wait any longer," he added for the teacher's benefit.

Joe and Biff left the house and both boys got into the van. "I'm parked down the street," Biff told Joe. "But I'll come back for it later. We have to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Joe said stonily, starting the van and pulling out of the drive.

"You aren't really going to let that creep rape you are you?" Biff demanded heatedly.

"It isn't rape," Joe said quietly.

"You don't want to do it," Biff argued. "That's rape."

"I have to," Joe said.

"Why?" Biff demanded loudly.

"You heard Frank," Joe said, tears sliding down his cheeks. "He won't have anything to do with me unless I pass," he stated. "And mom won't listen. She said this was between dad and me. Dad won't even listen. He thinks I'm trying to make excuses."

"You've got to make them listen," Biff said forcefully.

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Joe turned on him and screamed. "I've tried everything I know to do. I even sneaked into Dad's files but he caught me. I'm grounded forever to boot!"

"Why were you in his files?" Biff asked.

"I thought if I could find something against Johnson, anything, then I might be able to get him off my back long enough to convince Dad something was going on." Joe pulled over to the curb and cut the engine off. "Every time I try something, something happens and I get in deeper. I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he said more softly.

"We've got to convince Frank that you and Callie weren't doing anything wrong," Biff said.

"How?" Joe demanded. "You know, that really bugs me," he continued. "He knows Callie would never do that to him. And more importantly, he should know I would sooner die than hurt him like that, yet he jumped to the conclusion Callie and I were cheating on him. He didn't even wait for a logical explanation. He didn't even think there might have been one. All this time we have been so close, but he has no idea who I really am."

"He knows you're his brother," Biff said, a little confused.

"Yeah, he knows I'm his brother. He knows I like to solve mysteries. But he doesn't really know me. Sure we hang, hung out, together a lot, but I bet you he doesn't even know what subject at school I like best. He probably has no clue what I'm planning on doing after graduation."

"I even know that," Biff said. "You and Frank are going to start your own investigative agency."

"That's after he graduates college," Joe said. "I've got three years before that. He probably thinks I'll still be in high school when he gets back. Then again, if I can't sort out this mess with Johnson, I may be."

"I really hadn't thought of that," Biff said. "What are you going to do while Frank is in college. I mean, I know you don't want to go to college."

"I was thinking about becoming a cop," Joe said. "But a few months back, I started paying attention to all those commercials on television about those poor kids who don't have anything. I want to help."

"Really?" Biff asked.

"Yeah," Joe said. "I've all ready talked to some people. They want college grads and the like, but they think I have enough life experience to help, so they asked if I would be willing to start as soon as I graduate. I told them yes."

"Have you told your folks?" Biff asked.

"No," Joe said. "I just got accepted two days ago."

"Don't give up," Biff said encouragingly. "We'll get you out of this jam."

"Okay," Joe said, smiling at his friend. "We've got until day after tomorrow to come up with something. I have to go for more tutoring then and I doubt he'll even bother with the door or phone then."

Biff got out of the van and walked back to his own. Joe restarted the engine and headed home. He parked the van in the driveway and noticed the lights in the living room. He went around to the back where the kitchen stood in darkness and went inside. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, so he silently crept inside and up the stairs without alerting anyone he was back.

Joe had already gotten ready for bed by the time anyone noticed he had returned. His mom poked her head in his door. "How was the study session?" she asked.

"No problem," he told her with a false smile. "I'm going to pass this class one way or another," he promised her.

"Sure you will," Frank scoffed from the doorway of the connecting bathroom after their mother had left. "Exactly how will you pass it?" he demanded.

"Oh, I thought I'd seduce the teacher," Joe said bitterly, but his tone was lost on Frank.

"Too bad you have a male teacher, or you probably would," Frank replied disdainfully and returned to his own room, closing the bathroom door.

Joe turned off his bedroom light and began crying. He wondered, as he cried himself to sleep, if he would ever get Frank on his side again. 


	6. Chapter Six

Frank awoke with a start. 'What was that sound?' he wondered, sitting up and listening intently. He heard it again. It was coming from Joe's room. Undecided only for a second, he threw off his quilt and stood up. He went through the bathroom and saw Joe lying on his bed, all his cover lying in a heap by the bed.

"No, no, no, please, no," Joe moaned. He thrashed about for a moment. Frank started over to wake him up but froze when Joe let out a terrified cry. "Please don't make me," Joe screamed, tears flowing from his eyes.

Frank walked over and sat down beside Joe as his bedroom door opened and his parents came rushing in. "What's wrong?" Mr. Hardy demanded, looking at his sons.

"Joe's having a nightmare," Frank replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Their mother went over to Joe's bedside and shook his shoulder. "Wake up, honey," she said gently. "Joe, wake up," she said a bit louder.

"Come on Joe, wake up," Frank said, and grabbed Joe's arm to give it a little pull. Joe's eyes shot open and he stared unseeingly at Frank, fear oozing form his eyes.

"No, please," Joe said, still in the inferno of his nightmare.

Frank dropped Joe's arm in surprise as Mrs. Hardy pushed the hair from Joe's eyes. "It's just a bad dream, honey," she told him.

Joe woke up and looked over at his mom. He smiled feebly and gave an apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry," he said a bit hoarsely.

"Are you okay, Son?" Mr. Hardy asked, concern on his face.

"What do you care?" Joe asked him, his blue eyes filled with hurt and something Mr. Hardy couldn't put a name to.

"I do care," he assured his youngest son. "I just want you to start being responsible."

"That's what we all want," Frank said.

Joe looked at Frank with undisguised hatred. Frank inhaled sharply as his mother, unaware, stood up. "Back to bed, everyone," she said, ushering her husband out of the room.

"Joe, I.." Frank began but Joe cut him off.

"Don't," Joe stopped him. "There really isn't anything I want to hear you say."

"How about I'm sorry?" Frank asked. "I never should..."

"I said, don't," Joe stopped him from speaking again. "I loved you more than anyone," Joe said. "And when I really needed you, you turned on me." He paused and shook his head with a derisive laugh. "I actually cared enough to give up my self-respect, among other things, just so you would care about me again. But you know something?" he asked, but continued before Frank could open his mouth. "I've come to the conclusion that you never cared about me to begin with. If you had, then you never could have thought what you did about me and Callie. And that means, you don't have what I need. I need someone who will love me no matter what. And you don't."

Joe sat up and grabbed his cover from the floor. Laying down, he pulled the cover over him and turned his back on a speechless Frank.

"Joe," Frank began, but Joe cut him off.

"Close the door on your way out," Joe said.

Frank sighed and stood up. Then he walked back into the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door open. He went back to bed, but not to sleep. He lay awake trying to think what Joe had meant about nearly losing his self respect. It was almost dawn when Frank finally fell asleep.

Frank showered and came downstairs for breakfast, expecting to see Joe there. When he wasn't, he asked his parents where Joe had gone.

"He left as soon as he came downstairs this morning," his mother answered. "He didn't even want breakfast."

"Dad, has Joe tried to talk to you about his history class?" Frank asked, his brown eyes troubled.

"He came home during lunch yesterday and said he was having a problem with his teacher," Mr. Hardy admitted. "Why?"

"Just something Joe said last night after you two had gone back to bed," Frank replied. "I'm wondering if his failing history is his fault."

"Frank, all of Joe's grades have been slipping," Mr. Hardy reminded him.

"I know, but he's really been studying," Frank argued. "Has he brought up the grades on any of his other classes?"

"We haven't seen any recently," Mr. Hardy stated, his eyes growing thoughtful too. He looked over at his wife. "He seems to still be talking to you," he said. "Perhaps you could find out?"

"Of course," she readily agreed. "I do wish I knew what was going on with him though," she said. "When he came home at lunch yesterday, he tried to talk to me about his history class but I told him it was between him and you. I guess I should have listened," she ended with a regretful sigh.

"Well, Joe may not be talking now, but I know of one other person who knows what is going on and I'll find out today," Frank vowed, standing up. He grabbed his backpack, kissed his mom's cheek and left for school.

"Callie!" Frank shouted as she passed by him and hurried down the hallway to her locker. He slammed his locker shut and snapped on his combination lock and ran down to catch up to her.

"What do you want?" she asked angrily, opening her locker and taking out a book.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"You have said quite enough," she told him, closing her locker.

"I'm sorry," Frank said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"How could you even for a second think I would do that to you?" Callie demanded. "Forget me," she added. "How could you think that about Joe?"

"I was jealous," Frank admitted. "I saw you two hugging and heard him say I couldn't find out and I..."

"Jumped to the wrong conclusion," she finished for him. "I thought I knew you," she said. "I don't think you even know yourself."

"I was wrong," Frank said. "I admit it. If I could take back yesterday, I would. Please give me a second chance?" he begged her.

Callie shook her head. "I can't," she answered. "Not now at any rate. I'm still too angry."

"Please?" Frank begged again.

"Look, forget about me for now, and take care of Joe," she advised him. "He needs you."

"He won't talk to me," Frank said. "He hates me."

"Do you blame him?" Callie retorted.

"No, not really," Frank replied with a downcast look and a heavy sigh.

"Help him anyway," Callie urged.

"Help him what?" Frank asked. "What's going on with him?"

Callie shook her head. "I promised I wouldn't tell," she said.

"If he's in trouble, then you have to," he stated.

"I can't tell you," she insisted, watching Frank's eyes grow hard. "Look, I'll try and talk to Joe, but I can't tell you."

Frank nodded and backed away from her so she could precede him down the hallway to her class. "Your class is the other way," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I'm going to keep begging and nagging until you forgive me," he threatened her. Callie shook her head and went inside the class room, leaving Frank in the hallway.

Frank walked back down the hallway toward his class. He came to a stop at the doorway of Mrs. Peterson's English class and saw his brother sitting in the back, his book on his desk, staring out the window. Frank frowned. Joe usually was cheerful and cutting up before class, but he was totally ignoring what the other kids were doing. Frank jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Did he talk to you last night?" Biff asked when Frank turned around.

"Oh, yeah," Frank admitted. "He hates me."

"If that were true, then why did he let that creep touch him?" Biff demanded.

"What?" Frank asked.

"You still don't know what's going on," Biff observed, frowning.

Frank shook his head. "He had a nightmare last night," he informed Biff as they started into class. "When he woke up, he didn't want anything to do with me."

"That's good," Biff said brightly, walking away from Frank and sitting down. 


	7. Chapter Seven

"What do you mean, that's good?" Frank demanded, taking a chair beside Frank. "He hates me. He wouldn't even let me apologize."

"Trust me," Biff said. "For now, that's a good thing."

"Why?" Frank hissed as the teacher walked into the classroom.

"Because if he doesn't care about you then he won't go back," Biff replied.

Before Frank could respond to that cryptic remark, the bell rang and class began. As soon as it was over, Frank reached over and grabbed Biff's arm. "What's going on?" he demanded. He had been unable to concentrate on the class and everything the teacher had said was no more than mumblings. For the first time this year, Frank hadn't taken any notes.

"Joe's new history teacher is flunking Joe," Biff told him.

"I know," Frank said, his face creased with curiosity. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"He's not failing because he deserves to," Biff replied. "He's failing because he won't do what the teacher asks. He started to last night, because you told him it was the only way you'd care about him again," Biff continued. "But I followed him and put a stop to it. Tomorrow night he has to go back or he won't pass history, he won't even pass his junior year."

Frank's face was white. "What does he want Joe to do?" he demanded. "Steal something?"

Biff shook his head and got up. "Look, call your dad," he advised. "Tell him to talk to Joe."

"Tell me," Frank insisted.

"I can't," Biff said. "You see, Joe knew what he was talking about yesterday when he said you mustn't find out." With that, Biff left the room.

Frank left the room and walked down the hall. He saw Joe, tight-lipped, leaving his history class. Callie was right behind him, her face set in a grim line. He watched as she grabbed Joe's arm and forced him to slow down. He sped up so he could get closer and hear what they were talking about.

"You went to see him," Callie accused Joe angrily. "Didn't you?"

Joe shrugged off her arm and kept on walking. "He thinks you are going to do it, doesn't he?" she demanded, keeping in step with him. "That's why he gave you a hundred on the pop quiz today, isn't it?"

"Leave me alone, okay?" Joe demanded, stopping and turning to face her. "I...I'm handling it."

"You mean, he's handling you," Callie retorted. "I've got to tell Frank."

"So go ahead," Joe snarled. "In case you don't realize it, I was wrong about him. He doesn't care. Tell him. He'll probably throw a party, or at least offer to drop me off tomorrow night."

With that, Joe walked away, leaving Callie standing in the hallway with tears running down her cheeks.

"Callie," Frank caught up with her after Joe had stormed off to his locker. "What..." Frank stopped speaking abruptly as Callie turned around and slapped him hard across the face.

"This is all your fault!" she stormed at him. "If you hadn't been such a creep yesterday, then Joe wouldn't be in so much trouble now. How could you?!" she screamed at him. "You always play the Big Protector, but when Joe needed you most, you turned on him. Well, I hope you are proud of yourself."

Frank grabbed Callie's arm and pulled her down the hall and out the door. They had been drawing a crowd inside. "Okay, I admit it," Frank said. "I blew it big time! But I am trying to make up for it and I can't when no one will tell me what's going on."

"I...I can't," Callie said. "If you really do love Joe, and I know you do, then you can't know." Frank started to argue, but she put a hand over his mouth and continued. "Make your dad listen to Joe. He needs help. He can't do this alone."

"It has something to do with his history teacher," Frank said when she moved her hand. "I know that much. And if you won't tell me, then I'll find out from Johnson," he added, turning to go back into the building.

"NO!" Callie shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" Frank demanded.

"Because you'll be warning him," she said. "And he'll get away with what he's been doing to Joe."

"What has he been doing?" Frank asked again. Callie remained silent. "How can I help Joe if I don't know what's wrong?" he demanded.

"If I tell you, you have to promise to control your temper," she told him.

"I always, well almost always, control my temper," he said.

"Frank, you have to swear you'll let your dad handle this," she told him.

"Handle what?" Frank demanded.

"Promise!" she said, her lips firmly set.

"Fine, I'll let Dad deal with the problem, just tell me what it is," Frank said wearily.

Callie sighed and looked at Frank. Several seconds passed and Frank started to wonder if she was going to tell him even after he had agreed to her terms. "Mr. Johnson, he.." she began, but fell silent.

"He what?" Frank prodded, his forehead wrinkling. 'How bad could this be?' he wondered.

"He told Joe if he didn't mess around with him, then he wouldn't pass," Callie said in a rush.

"What?" Frank asked softly, his face white, his breathing heavy.

"When you told Joe passing was the only way you and he would ever be friends again, he...he.."

"He went over to see him," Frank finished for her, closing his eyes and letting tears roll down his cheeks. "Oh my God," he whispered. "What have I done?" 


	8. Chapter Eight

Frank turned around and headed back toward school but Callie took his arm. "You promised," she reminded him.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he shouted at her. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

"Because Joe was afraid you would do something stupid," Callie told him. "He didn't want you to end up in jail because of him."

"He was trying to protect me?" Frank asked, shaking his head. "Stupid kid," Frank said affectionately.

"What are you going to do?" Callie asked him.

"First I'm going to find Joe," Frank said. "Then we are going home to talk to Dad," he told her. "You're right. If I get near Johnson, I probably will kill him," he added, his brown eyes hard as steel.

Back inside the school, Frank spotted Joe heading down to the gymnasium. Frank told Callie he'd call her and took off after Joe. He had almost caught up with Joe when he saw an arm reach out and take hold of Joe's arm, pulling him into a classroom. The door closed as soon as Joe crossed the threshold.

Frank ran the last few steps and pushed the door open. Mr. Johnson stood there with one hand on Joe's cheek and the other on his arm. Joe looked like he was about to be sick and it took every ounce of self-control Frank possessed not to run over and knock the teacher through the window.

"Hey Joe," Frank said, then paused, acting surprised to see Mr. Johnson in the room with him. Mr. Johnson quickly released Joe and took a step back.

"Who are you?" Mr. Johnson inquired.

"Frank Hardy," Frank said. "I'm Joe's brother. If you're through with him, I need to talk to him," Frank said trying to sound innocent.

"Of course," Mr. Johnson replied. "I'll expect you for your tutoring session?" he asked Joe.

Joe looked at Frank and gave a slight nod. Now it was Frank's turn to feel sick to his stomach. Mr. Johnson left the room and Frank closed the door behind him. Joe started to leave, but Frank stepped in front of the door, blocking Joe's path.

"We need to talk," Frank said.

"You have nothing I want to hear," Joe replied.

"Then you talk," Frank said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Joe with a worried expression. "What is Johnson up to?"

"What do you care?" Joe snarled, trying to brush past Frank.

"I'm sorry," Frank said, grabbing Joe's arm. "I made a big mistake. I admit it. Now talk to me," he ordered Joe. "Something is wrong and I want to know what."

"Getting bored without a mystery to solve?" Joe sneered.

"I don't care if I never solve another mystery as long as I live," Frank said honestly, staring Joe in the eyes. "I want my brother back."

Joe looked at the conviction in Frank's eyes and knew he was telling the truth. Frank really did care more about him than mysteries. "It...it's nothing," Joe said. "I can handle it."

"Not by yourself you can't," Frank argued.

"You think I can't do anything without you?" Joe demanded angrily.

"That's not it and you know it," Frank told him. "I would have to be blind not to notice something is going on between you and Johnson," he continued. "Now spill it."

"There's nothing to spill," Joe insisted. "He ...he's helping me pass."

"Yeah, but not history," Frank said, not caring to hide the fact that he knew what was really going on.

Joe looked startled. "How did you find out?" he asked.

"Biff and Callie," Frank told him. "Although, it took a lot of effort," he added, not wanting his brother to be mad at them. "They're worried about you. So am I," he added softly. "Last night, you said you nearly did something that would have destroyed your self-respect. Tell me."

Joe looked at his feet and shook his head.

"I..I know whatever it was... was because of what I said to you," Frank said, obviously shaken. "And I thank God that Biff was watching out for you. But you have to level with me. I want to help and I can't if I don't know everything."

Joe looked up at Frank for a brief second, but that was long enough for Frank to see that his brother was crying. "Talk to me," Frank begged. "Please." So Joe told Frank about Johnson's pass at Joe after his exam and Callie cheating off of him and the quiz he had just taken. When he had finished, Frank stood there, his face pale, his breathing labored.

He took Joe in his arms and hugged him. "Listen to me," he said, pulling back and taking Joe's face in his hands. "This isn't your fault. You haven't done anything to deserve this." Joe looked at Frank, his blue eyes still pleading for forgiveness for something he hadn't done. "You have to believe me," Frank insisted. "Johnson is nothing more than a low life pervert. You had nothing to do with his ultimatum."

"But I went," Joe whispered.

"Because of me," Frank reminded him, crying himself. "If either of us is to blame, it's me. I'm so, so sorry baby brother." He pulled Joe to him again and squeezed him tight. "I'll make it up to you," he said. "I promise."

"Frank, no," Joe begged. "You can't do something stupid."

"I won't," Frank promised. "No matter how much I would love too. We've got to see Dad," he said. "Dad will know how to handle this."

Joe shook his head and told Frank about trying to talk to dad when it had first happened. "He didn't know," Frank said in their father's defense. "He would never let anyone do this to you."

"But he did," Joe said softly.

"And so did I," Frank added, not loud enough for Joe to hear. "Look, we'll go talk to Dad together," Frank said. "Johnson will be history in no time."

Joe made a face. "Bad pun," he commented.

"But accurate," Frank pointed out as the bell ending class rang.

"Great," Joe moaned. "Now I'm skipping classes."

"Don't worry about it," Frank told him. "Let's get to lunch," he added. "We'll talk to Dad as soon as school is over."

"I think I'll skip lunch," Joe said. "I'm not hungry. I'll just go to the library until my next class."

"I'll come with you," Frank offered.

"No," Joe said, shaking his head. "I'm okay, really. I actually feel better now than I have since Johnson first started harassing me."

"Okay then," Frank agreed and watched Joe leave the room. He left the room a little later and headed down the hall. He wasn't hungry either and decided not to waste his time in the lunch room.

"Attention! Everyone, may I have your attention please?" the principal's voice boomed over the intercom later that afternoon. "I know this is the last class of the day and you are all anxious to go home. However," this word was met with hundreds of groans from all occupied classrooms. "However," the voice continued, "the school day will run a bit longer than normal. There has been an incident in one of the teacher's offices and the police have requested that no one leave the premises until after they have secured the scene. Please be patient and stay in your current location until further notice. Thank you." There was a moment's silence and then one more announcement. "Would Frank and Joe Hardy please report to the office. Frank and Joe Hardy, please report to the office."

The boys met up outside the office door. Principal Dylan met them and led them down the hallway to Mr. Johnson's office. "I know you boys are experienced in solving mysteries," Principal Dylan said. "Perhaps you could help the police find the person who murdered Mr. Johnson," he added, opening the door and going inside.

Frank and Joe froze at the entrance. Joe looked at Frank who refused to meet his eyes. Had Frank killed Johnson to protect him? 


	9. Chapter Nine

Frank went in the office behind Principal Dylan. Joe, worried, followed at a slower pace.

Johnson was sitting with his face lying on the desk so that the right side could be seen.

"What happened?" Joe asked, still standing near the door. Even though Johnson was deceased and could not hurt him, Joe still felt uncomfortable around him.

"It looks like he was strangled," Frank commented as the police arrived.

"Hi Joe, Frank," Ezra Collig, Bayport's tall, lean, and graying chief of police, greeted them, nudging Joe aside so he could come into the office.

"Hi, Chief," Frank returned the greeting, looking at him after glancing at Joe. "I guess you want us to wait outside?" he asked.

"I would rather know what you two are doing here in the first place?" he asked pointedly.

"I asked them to help," Principal Dylan informed Chief Collig. "They are, after all, experienced in this field and they are on the grounds."

"True," Chief Collig admitted, looking at them curiously. He noticed how Frank kept casting furtive glances at Joe and how sick Joe looked when he looked at Frank. Neither of them meeting the other's eyes. Chief Collig's eyes narrowed on the two, knowing something was going on. This was not a normal occurrence by any means. 'Those two always thought along the same lines in an investigation and they always communicated through their eyes,' he thought.

He looked at Frank and said, "Okay, hang around in the hall. We need to secure this scene," he added.

Frank, Joe, and the principal left the office while Chief Collig and three other officers, two of them from forensics, took care of the crime scene. Principal Dylan left for his office and Frank and Joe sat down on the floor to wait. Neither of them talking.

Half an hour later, Chief Collig exited the office. "Okay," he said. "Sergeant Talbolt is going to be in charge of this case," he said. "He's on his way to the office to find out when Johnson's last class was and if he had any meetings with students today. You can keep in touch with him," the chief informed the Hardys.

"Okay," Joe replied, with a small smile of acknowledgement, which vanished almost as soon as it appeared.

"Do you two know anyone who might have something against Johnson?" Chief Collig asked, watching them closely.

"I do," Joe spoke up quickly, trying to keep Frank from saying anything.

"And me," Frank added, ignoring the warning look Joe sent him.

"What?" Chief Collig demanded.

Joe swallowed nervously but didn't answer. Frank glanced at Joe. "We just do," Frank said.

"Frank, I need more than that," the chief told him just before the intercom came on and the students were told they could go home.

All the students looked curiously at the Hardys and Chief Collig as they made their way out of the building. Some whispered furtively while others openly shouted about the delay in leaving. "Somewhere more private, perhaps?" he asked.

The boys nodded and the three made their way into a now empty classroom down the hall. As they entered, Biff followed them in as did Callie.

Chief Collig looked surprised to see the two of them, but Frank and Joe didn't. "You have met Callie and Biff?" Frank asked Chief Collig, who nodded.

"What are you two doing here?" Joe asked them.

"We're involved in this too," Callie pointed out. "They can't think you two killed him."

"I didn't," Chief Collig said. "But it is interesting to know you think I might have. Why?"

"You haven't told him?" Biff asked Joe.

Joe, looking down at his feet, shook his head.

"What's going on?" Chief Collig demanded. "Should I call your parents?

Joe let out a derisive snort, causing Chief Collig to narrow his gaze on him. "Joe, they didn't know," Frank said, still trying to defend his parents.

"They wouldn't even listen," Joe retorted.

"Okay, hold it," Chief Collig said. "Before this goes any further, I want all your parents called and we are all going to the station."

An hour later, the Shaws, the Hoopers and the Hardys were all gathered at the police station. Mr. Hardy was asked to go into Chief Collig's office while the others waited outside. Joe sat off to one side, his thoughts directed inward. Frank went over and sat beside him but Joe refused to look at him. Biff came over and sat down on Joe's other side.

Frank and Biff kept trying to get Joe to talk, but he simply sat staring down at his hands in his lap. Callie came over and put a hand on Frank's shoulder, looking at Joe. The kids' parents were silent as they watched everyone gather around Joe, and wondered what they were doing there and why Joe seemed to be the center of attention.

"Joe, would you come in here, please?" Chief Collig asked, opening the door and looking out.

Joe stood up and walked into the office. Frank watched Joe walk in and stood up to follow. "Just Joe," the chief told him.

"But.." Frank began to object, but Chief Collig interrupted him.

"Just Joe," he said, more sternly.

Mrs. Hardy came over and took Frank's arm and led him over to a chair near her.

Inside the office, Joe took a seat in front of Chief Collig's desk. His father sat in the chair beside him. "Joe, you said you had something against Bradley Johnson," Chief Collig began. "Would you please tell us what?"

Joe flashed a look of resentment at his father. "Joe, please," Mr. Hardy said.

"He uh, uh," Joe started, his breathing become heavier, and his eyes tearing up. He stopped talking and blinked rapidly.

"Just take your time," Chief Collig told him gently. Exchanging a look with Mr. Hardy.

"Son," Mr. Hardy said, leaning over and putting a hand on Joe's shoulder. Joe flinched and jerked away.

"Joe?" Mr. Hardy asked softly. "What's wrong?"

"You want to listen now?" Joe asked, hurt evident in his voice. "You didn't care when I needed you."

Now it was Mr. Hardy's turn to flinch. "I'm sorry," he told Joe. "I'm not perfect. I do make mistakes."

"So did I," Joe admitted. He took a deep breath and looked up, but still avoided looking at his father or the chief. He fixed his vision on a plaque behind the chief's desk. "Mr. Johnson told me there was only one way I would be able to pass his class. He told me I needed special tutoring. I was to go to his house twice a week."

"What kind of tutoring?" Chief Collig asked, looking intently at Joe and not seeing the paling of Mr. Hardy's face.

"He wanted me to..to.." Joe began, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Oh my God," the words were torn from Mr. Hardy as he jumped up and pulled his son out of his chair and into a tight hug.

Joe moved backwards in his father's embrace. "I, uh, went to his house last night," Joe admitted, sitting back down. Mr. Hardy started crying now as Chief Collig concentrated on Joe's words, completely ignoring Mr. Hardy's reactions to the distressing news.

"He had me drink a glass of wine and ...and..." Joe said, not knowing how to continue.

"It's okay," Chief Collig said. "I have a pretty good idea what happened after that."

"Not much, really," Joe said, to his dad's and the chief's surprise. "Biff followed me and interrupted my session before Johnson could do more than touch and kiss me. Biff insisted I not go back. He kept trying to get me to talk to Frank or Dad again, but, well, they weren't listening. And then I had a nightmare about it and I thought no one really cared about me anyway," he admitted, his voice sinking to a mere whisper. 


	10. Chapter Ten

"Oh Joseph!" Mr. Hardy rasped, falling to his knees on the floor beside Joe's chair. "I'm so sorry." He pulled Joe to him again. This time, Joe let his father hold him while he cried. Chief Collig left the office to give them some time alone.

"Listen to me," Mr. Hardy said, taking Joe's chin and lifting his face so he would have to look him in the eyes. "This wasn't your fault. You have done nothing wrong."

"But I did," Joe insisted. "I went. I was going to let him."

"It still wasn't your fault. I had no right not to listen to you. You came to me for help and I wouldn't even listen. I thought I was a better father than that. I'm sorry, baby," he said again, pulling Joe tight. "I love you so very much and so does your brother and mother. You know that?" he asked, desperate to hear a positive answer.

"I know," Joe sniffed. "I was just so confused, I wasn't thinking straight. Biff was right, I should have made you listen to me."

"You shouldn't have to make me listen," Mr. Hardy said. "It is my responsibility to do so regardless of how upset I get with you."

"You really aren't mad at me?" Joe inquired.

"You have to understand that when your mother and I punish you, we are doing it so you will learn from your mistake and make you a better person. We love you so much, it hurts us when we have to punish you."

"Not as much as it hurts me," Joe said.

"In a different way, probably more," his dad said. "But no matter what gets said, you have to remember that we do love you and nothing you can say or do, and nothing anyone else could say or do, will ever change that."

Frank jumped to his feet as Chief Collig exited his office. "Frank will you come over here, please?" Collig asked, moving over to a desk, which was presently vacant.

Frank walked over and took a seat beside the desk as the chief sat down behind it. "At the beginning, please?" Collig requested, looking Frank in the eyes.

"I'm not sure about that," Frank admitted, but began telling him about his and Joe's altercation and his finding out about Johnson earlier. "I want to tell you I'm sorry he's dead, but I couldn't be happier," Frank ended.

"And Biff and Callie are the only other two who knew about this?" Collig inquired. Frank gave a nod. "Would you please ask Callie to come over here with her parents?" Collig requested as Frank stood to return to the others. Frank nodded his agreement and returned to his mother.

A couple of minutes later, the door to Collig's office opened up and Joe walked out followed by his father. Fenton strode over to where Biff sat. "Thank you," he told Biff in a strained voice.

Biff looked uncomfortable with the attention but gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. He stood up to go and check on Joe, but Fenton grabbed Biff and gave him a quick hug.

"I'd do anything for Joe," Biff told him, then walked over to Joe. "How are you doing?" he asked softly, so no one else could hear.

Joe shrugged. "Relieved," he said. "Scared," he admitted a second later, his troubled blue eyes seeking out Biff's.

Biff put an arm around Joe's shoulders. "Don't be," he said. "Everything is going to be okay now, you'll see."

Frank looked over at Joe and Biff and felt left out. Until yesterday, Joe had always turned to him. But because of his jealousy over Joe's popularity with girls, things may never again be the same between them.

"Biff," Callie said, coming over to them. "Chief Collig wants to see you and your parents now."

"But we'll go into my office," Chief Collig said, noticing Joe and his dad had finished. "Joe, you can come too." Frank stood up again but Collig shook his head. "Just Joe."

Fuming, Frank sat back down. "I've got to go now," Callie told Frank as the Shaws remained standing. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't worry," she pleaded with him. "Joe's safe now and I know neither of you killed Johnson. Everything's going to be okay."

Frank smiled gratefully up at her, wishing he could believe her. "Thanks," he said, and watched her leave.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Hardy demanded, looking at the wounded expressions on her son's and husband's faces. While Mr. Hardy told Laura about Johnson's blackmail of Joe, Frank leaned back in his chair and stared at Chief Collig's door, wishing more than anything he were on the other side.

Almost half an hour later, the Hoopers exited the office. Again, Frank jumped up. Biff shook his head. "He said he would let you know when he was ready for you," Biff told Frank and his parents. "See you at school tomorrow," he added as he left with his parents.

Sergeant Talbolt arrived a couple of minutes later and went into Chief Collig's office. Collig walked out and left the sergeant to speak with Joe.

All the Hardys stood as Chief Collig came forward. "Well?" Frank demanded. "How is he?"

"I'm sorry," Collig told them. "But, from what I've heard, Joe has become our number one suspect in the murder of Bradley Johnson." 


	11. Chapter Eleven

"He didn't do it!" Frank shouted at Chief Collig. "I had a reason to kill him too."

"I know," Collig sighed. "And you are our third suspect."

"Third?" Fenton latched onto the number. "Who is second?"

"Biff," Collig replied.

"Why Biff?" Frank demanded, confusion written all over his face. If anyone had wanted to protect Joe enough to kill Johnson, it had to have been him, not Biff.

"You had better ask Biff or Joe," Collig replied. "We don't have any evidence to hold anyone, so Joe can go home. But both of you stay around town," he added with a warning glance at Frank.

"You don't really believe the boys killed him, do you?" Mrs. Hardy asked the chief as Frank stomped off to contemplate the problem alone.

"No, I don't," Collig replied honestly. "But I do think they do."

"What?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"Joe keeps trying to take the blame but won't admit to anything. I think he is trying to protect Frank. And you heard Frank, he wants to be considered a suspect. He may think Joe did do it and is trying to protect him by being willing to take the blame."

"And Biff?" asked Mrs. Hardy. "Why is Biff a suspect in this? Because he rescued Joe last night?"

Chief Collig looked down at his feet. "You had better..."

"Don't you dare tell me I have to find out from Joe or Biff," she interrupted him angrily. "You know we won't find out anything from them at the present."

"Biff is in love with Joe," Collig replied softly. "He said he would do anything for Joe. And I believe him."

"What?" Mrs. Hardy asked in shock.

"Easy," Collig said as Mr. Hardy led her to a chair and helped her to sit down. "Biff admitted that he had never forced the issue because he knows Joe is straight. But he also said, that he would never allow anyone else to force the issue either."

"Which is why Biff makes an excellent suspect," Mr. Hardy said, unsure whether to be glad he was Joe's friend or not.

"This is only the beginning of the investigation," Collig told them. "There may be others who had something against Johnson."

Frank returned to the group in time to hear this last statement. "Of course," Frank said, slapping his forehead. "We have been too upset to realize it. But he may have tried what he did with Joe with another student, or maybe even more than one."

"My thoughts exactly," Sergeant Talbolt said from the doorway of Collig's office. He came out, followed by Joe. "Principal Dylan told me he had asked for your help on this case," he continued. "I am going to get a list of all Johnson's students and transcripts of their grades. After I compile a suspect list, I want you and Joe to go over it and see if you can spot anyone who might have killed Johnson," he said to Frank.

"You don't think we did it?" Frank asked.

"You have to remain suspects, but," he added, with a sigh, "no. I don't think either of you are capable of cold-blooded murder, no matter what the circumstances. If you two would stop by here on your way to school tomorrow, I would appreciate it."

"I can't," Joe said. "I'm grounded."

"Yes, you can," Mr. Hardy said. "This involves you and you have every right to clear yourself." He looked at Talbolt. "How can I help?" he asked.

"Right now, I don't think you can," he admitted. "I'm going to check Johnson's background," he added. "Someone from his past may have put in an appearance."

"It seems a shame," Frank commented.

"What does?" asked his mother.

"That we have to put whoever killed him behind bars. Johnson deserved to die," Frank pointed out.

Later that evening, the Hardys sat at the dinner table. Joe pushed a meatball around his plate with his fork, not talking or looking at his family. Frank had set his fork down and was staring at Joe and their parents had eaten part of their dinner then also given up.

Fenton cleared his throat and everyone looked at him. "There isn't anything either of you can do until morning," he said. "Why don't you two go to bed early and get some rest?"

"Good idea," Frank said, standing up. He reached over to take Joe's arm but Joe backed out of reach and stood up, not seeing the wounded look in Frank's eyes as he turned and headed for the stairs.

"Give him time," Laura said, placing a comforting hand on Frank's arm. "This has been hard on him."

Frank nodded and moved to go up stairs when the phone rang. Frank picked it up on the first ring and Joe must have as well because he heard Joe answer from the extension upstairs.

"Hello," Joe greeted the caller.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Biff's voice came through the line.

"The same," Joe intoned.

"Want to grab a pizza and talk?" Biff asked.

"I doubt they'd let me go," Joe answered.

"Ask them," Biff urged. "You really do need to talk this out."

"I know," Joe agreed. "I just wish..."

"I know," Biff said, when Joe broke off. "You wish you felt like talking to Frank. He does love you, you know."

Frank smiled when he heard that. "I used to think so," Joe said, causing Frank's smile to vanish. "But I just don't know what to think anymore," Joe continued. "All we seem to have had in common lately are the cases we have worked on."

"You could tell him about your plans for after high school," Biff suggested. "Just talk to him."

"I don't want to," Joe admitted. "I," he paused and gave a heavy sigh. "I just don't feel as close to him as I used to."

"Because he let you down," Biff said.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "I always thought I could count on him no matter what, now I'm not sure."

"Have your feelings changed about him?" Biff asked.

"NO!" Joe denied vehemently. "I still love him more than life itself. It's just..."

"It's just you aren't sure how he feels," Biff said understandingly. "Want me to talk to him?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea right now," Joe said.

"At least you're still talking to me," Biff said.

"I admit, I was shocked with what you said in Chief Collig's office," Joe said. "But you have always been a very good friend and you have never tried to get me to, well, you know," he ended uncomfortably.

"I know you will never love me," Biff said. "I can handle that. You're straight. And I would rather keep you as a friend than try to force the issue and lose any connection with you whatsoever."

"I appreciate that," Joe told him.

"In spite of that, or because of it, I won't let anyone else push you into that position either," Biff continued.

"You're a good friend," Joe told him. "And I really want you to stay my friend."

"Even though I want your bod?" Biff quipped, trying to get Joe to perk up.

"Yeah," Joe admitted with a small laugh. "Just as friends, okay?"

"I'm down with that," Biff said. "Want to ask your folks if you can grab a pizza?"

"Nah," Joe replied with a little smile. "I'm feeling better all ready. Thanks."

"Anytime," Biff said. "Bye."

"Bye," Joe replied, lowering the phone and not hearing the second click.

"Frank, what's the matter?" Mr. Hardy asked, seeing Frank's white face.

"I just found out why Chief Collig thinks Biff makes a better suspect than me," he croaked.

"Oh," Mr. Hardy replied softly, taking a sudden interest in his shoes.

Frank looked at him and then at his mother who had become busy removing the plates from the table. "You two knew?" he demanded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We thought it would be better if Joe told you," his father answered.

"How long have you know?" Frank asked harsly, staring at his parents in disbelief.

"Chief Collig told us this afternoon," Mrs. Hardy admitted. "I made him."

"I don't believe you two!" Frank shouted. "How could you not tell me?" With those words, he ran up the stairs and into Joe's room not bothering to knock.

"Go away," Joe said wearily from his bed, his arm flung over his eyes to close out the early evening rays of light which still shown through his bedroom window.

"Not until we work this out," Frank insisted. "I answered the phone when you did," he admitted, causing Joe to move his arm and look at Frank. "We have to talk." 


	12. Chapter Twelve

"What do you want to talk about?" Joe demanded. "The fact that I've got guys falling for me now? Girls weren't enough?" he shouted at Frank. "I don't want to hear it! Just go!"

"That's not it!" Frank shouted back, slamming Joe's bedroom door to mute the noise.

Downstairs, Mrs. Hardy looked up anxiously. "Maybe we should.." she began.

"No," Mr. Hardy prevented her from finishing the suggestion. "They have to work this out themselves." His wife bit her lip, but picked up a magazine and tried to ignore the commotion from upstairs.

"Then say what you have to say and get out!" Joe yelled, throwing his arm back over his eyes. "I really don't feel like talking right now."

"I love you!" Frank shouted, causing Joe to move his arm again and look at him in shock. "I love you," Frank repeated but softer than before. "I don't know what the problem has been but you were right when you told Biff we hadn't really been communicating recently. I don't want that. You're my brother by birth but you're my best friend by choice."

"Then why?" Joe asked in a small voice. "Why did you turn on me yesterday?"

"I was jealous of you," Frank admitted.

"Huh?" Joe asked in shocked disbelief. "Why would you ever be jealous of me? You're so much better than I am."

"Where did you get a crazy idea like that?" Frank demanded, going over and sitting down on the bed beside Joe.

"You're a straight A student. You always say and do the right thing. You're the best-dressed student at Bayport High and were voted most likely to succeed. You always finish everything you start and you.." he broke off.

"And I what?" Frank urged him to continue.

"And you are dad's favorite," Joe answered.

"Is that what you think?" Frank questioned, not believing Joe could think such a thing.

"It's what I know," Joe replied. "I'm okay with it, honest," he told Frank. "I've gotten used to it. But you always gave me what Dad never did. You always looked out for me. I used to think you cared more about me than mom and dad put together," he added softly.

"I did," Frank said, pushing a stray strand of hair from Joe's eyes. "And I still do. No one could care more for you than I do. I don't know what came over me yesterday. I didn't mean any of it," he continued. "I've always been envious of the way you can take charge of any conversation. The way you can get almost anyone to do what you want just by smiling at them. I thought Callie was the only girl at Bayport High to not go crazy over you. And when I heard you two saying I mustn't find out, well, I thought no one was safe from your charm."

"Callie doesn't like me that way," Joe told him.

"I know," Frank said. "It was my insecurity talking. I really am sorry," Frank said.

"Me too," Joe added, sitting up and grabbing Frank. They shared a big hug and then Joe sank back onto the bed. "About Biff..." he started.

"Yeah, about Biff," Frank agreed. "Are you okay with your friendship?" Frank asked. "I mean, since Johnson tried to um," he stopped, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"I don't think Biff would ever hurt me," Joe told him. "He has always been a good friend."

"You really are okay?" Frank asked in concern.

Joe looked at Frank, his eyes once again filled with worry. "About Johnson," he began.

"He deserved to die," Frank said gruffly.

"You didn't?" Joe asked, half in shock, his eyes filling with fear.

"No!" Frank shouted. "I wanted to though," he admitted honestly. "And I'm not sorry he's dead."

"Me either," Joe admitted, "but I didn't kill him either."

Frank let a relieved sigh slip out. Joe grinned. "You thought I had done it," he observed. "I wasn't sure about you either. I guess we really don't know each other."

"Yes we do," Frank disagreed with him. "We just lost touch for awhile. But that's going to change," he asserted. "Starting now. Are you sleepy?" Joe shook his head. "Me either," Frank replied. "How about we start with your telling me about your plans for when I'm in college?"

"Breakfast is almost ready," Mrs. Hardy said, peeping in her husband's office the next morning. "You get Frank and I'll get Joe?"

They walked down the hall together and Mr. Hardy stopped at Frank's door and gently knocked before opening the door. "He's not there," he said, going down to Joe's door where Laura had just rapped on the door. She pushed the door open and smiled over at her husband who peered into the room. Frank had fallen asleep on Joe's bed. Joe's head was laying on Frank's chest. Both of them were still wearing the clothes they had been wearing the night before.

"Hey you two," Mrs. Hardy said as Fenton went over and shook the boys. Frank opened one eye and peered up at his dad while Joe just groaned and snuggled deeper into the crook of Frank's arm. "Breakfast in fifteen minutes," Mrs. Hardy told them before going back downstairs.

"You two okay?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"Yeah," Frank replied quietly, knowing Joe was asleep again. "Dad, you have to talk to Joe. He thinks I'm your favorite."

"That's ridiculous!" Mr. Hardy thundered. "I love you both equally."

"Really?" Joe mumbled, having been woken up by his dad's roar.

"Really," Mr. Hardy asserted in a stern voice staring down at his youngest son in shock. "Why would you ever think such a thing?" he demanded.

Sitting up, Joe shrugged his shoulders but never answered. Mr. Hardy bent down and gave Joe a hug. "I know I've been rough on you," he said. "But I want you to be everything you can be. I know you're bright and intelligent," he continued. "I want you to know it too. I love you," he added. "Don't ever doubt that."

"I love you too," Joe told him, smiling.

"You know, I never knew how much I missed your smile until the past few days when you never," Mr. Hardy said, smiling back at his son in relief. "I promise to always listen to you from now on, even if you only want to tell me about the weather."

Joe laughed and got off the bed, stretching. "One of you had better use the shower in our room," Mr. Hardy continued. "Or you'll be late to see Sergeant Talbolt this morning."

When the boys arrived at school they met Talbolt on the steps. They continued inside to the principal's office where Principal Dylan left them alone to discuss the case. "I have two possibles," Talbolt told them as they sat down. "Nathan Little, his grades were mediocre until Johnson arrived and then he began pulling in A's and B's. Also, Patrick Caudill," he added. "His grades were also average but when Johnson began teaching they dived to F's."

"Patrick is in my homeroom," Frank said. "I don't know him very well, but I can try and get him to talk to me."

"And Nathan is in my chemistry class," Joe informed the two. "We have to choose lab partners today. I'll try and pair up with him.

In chemistry Joe took the seat beside Nathan. "Hey," he said, giving Nathan a bright smile. "Want to be my lab partner?"

"Why not?" Nathan said as the teacher, Mr. Turnmire, entered the room.

"Okay everyone," Mr. Turnmire said, standing in front of his desk. "We are beginning a new experiment today. If you haven't already chosen a partner, please do so now." There was about five minutes of rustling as students moved to join their new lab buddies. "Now, the experiment we are starting today is covered in chapter twelve of your books. Has anyone not read chapter twelve yet?"

Nathan slowly raised his hand. Joe, who had read it but was more interested in Nathan than class, also raised his hand. "Well," said Mr. Turnmire with disapproval. "You each certainly chose the appropriate lab partner. Read the chapter now and report here after school today."

Nathan made a face but opened his book, glancing at Joe, who was opening his book, out of the corner of his eye. "I thought you always did your homework," Nathan hissed at Joe after the teacher had turned his attention elsewhere.

"I've been having to put in extra time on my history class," Joe replied bitterly.

"Me too," Nathan said in a small voice as he looked back down at his text book. Joe and Nathan spent most of the class reading chapter twelve. With less than ten minutes left of class, Joe and Nathan finished the chapter and spent the time talking about things which might make the next exam. When the bell rang, Joe packed up his books and stood up. As he moved into the line for the door, he accidentally planted his foot on another student.

"Ouch!" roared the wounded student as he took Joe's shoulder and pushed him away.

Joe spun around in surprise. "I'm sorry Stanley," Joe told the boy. "I guess I should watch where I'm going," he added with an apologetic smile.

Stanley smiled back at him. "That's okay," he said graciously. "I guess you have had a lot on your mind."

Joe's smile faded to a puzzled frown as he thought about Stanley's remark but Stanley ended up explaining it himself. "I meant with Johnson's murder. I thought that was why you and Frank were called to the office yesterday afternoon."

"Oh, yeah," Joe agreed.

"How are you doing in history?" Stanley asked, "Not that it really matters. Isn't there some rule about when a teacher dies the students get A's?" he asked, as he and Joe walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.

"I think that only applies to suicidal students," Joe disagreed with him. "My grades have been kind of iffy lately," Joe admitted honestly, but never explained. "You?"

"I'm maintaining a B," Stanley said with a smile. "Want to study with me later tonight?" he asked.

"Uh, no thanks," Joe replied. "This afternoon I have to concentrate on chemistry with Nathan. But then, you heard Mr. Turmire order me and Nathan to see him after school," Joe added.

"I forgot," Stanley admitted sheepishly.

"Over here!" Frank shouted as Joe and Stanley entered the cafeteria.

"I'll see you," Joe told Stanley and went over to take a seat between Frank and blond headed, brown eyed, Chet Morton, another of the Hardy boys close friends.

Joe told Frank about having to stay late and promised to see him at home and talk about the case then. Frank told Joe that Patrick was absent today but that he planned on stopping at the Caudill's to see him after school.

Joe arrived at Mr. Turnmire's classroom a few minutes after the last bell. "A slight reprieve Mr. Hardy," Mr. Turnmire informed Joe. "Your partner was injured in gym class today and was taken to the hospital." 


	13. Chapter 13

Joe left the school and headed home. When he got there he told his parents he was going to the hospital to visit a friend and climbed on his motorcycle and took off.

Meanwhile, Frank had arrived at the Caudill home and was knocking on the front door. It was opened by a tall, thin woman in her late forties. "May I help you?" she inquired, her hazel eyes looking at Frank questioningly.

"I would like to see Patrick," Frank said.

"And you are?" she asked.

"My name is Frank Hardy," he introduced himself. "I go to school with Patrick."

"He wasn't feeling well today," she told him, not inviting him inside.

"Yes, I know," Frank admitted. "That's why I would like to see him."

Her gaze continued to stare at him curiously, but she stepped aside so he could enter. "Patrick is in the living room," she told him, closing the door. She led the way into the living room where an eighteen-year-old boy, roughly the same height and build as Joe but with brown hair and blue eyes sat. "Honey, you have company," she told her son.

"Um, thanks," Patrick replied, looking at Frank. He stood up. "Let's go to my room," he said and headed up the stairs, leaving Frank to follow.

"I guess you are here because of Johnson," Patrick said. "Too hard to resist a mystery in your own school, huh?"

"Principal Dylan asked us to help." Frank admitted with a nod. "How did you know that was why I was here?"

"I'm not a genius, but I'm not stupid either," Patrick said bitterly. "You probably checked his files and saw my grades had taken a dive so you thought I had killed him to get even."

"Not exactly," Frank replied.

"Look, I admit it, I am glad he's dead. But I never killed him, although under the circumstances I probably could have gotten away with it," Patrick added.

"No, you couldn't have," Frank denied.

"How do you know?" Patrick demanded. "You don't know the circumstances."

"I think I do," Frank answered gently. "Johnson threatened to fail you if you didn't give him special favors. You didn't, so your grades took a dive."

Patrick's face went white. "How do you know that?" he whispered. "You don't have him for history."

"No," Frank admitted. "But Joe does."

Patrick's eyes shot to Frank's. "He was blackmailing Joe too?"

Frank nodded, his face set in a grim line. "Yeah. And as a result, Joe and I are considered suspects in killing Johnson."

"I wished he were dead, but I never killed him," Patrick insisted.

"I believe you," Frank said, sitting down in the desk chair. "My bet is Johnson has enemies outside of the school too," he added. "People like that are just nauseating no matter where they are."

"That's putting it mildly," Patrick agreed. "When did Joe tell you about Johnson?"

"He never," Frank admitted. "He was trying to handle it on his own," he added, but left out the details as to why. "A couple of friends found out and told me."

"Did you kill him? Or maybe Joe?" Patrick asked a bit timidly.

Frank shook his head. "Oh, the thought did enter my mind. I even had a daydream as to how I would kill him if he got near Joe again, but someone killed him before he got another chance."

"I never told anyone either," Patrick admitted looking down at his feet. "That's why I'm stuck in here instead of down at the park shooting hoops with my friends. My folks grounded me because of my bad grades."

"Maybe you should tell them," Frank suggested.

"But Johnson's dead now," Patrick argued. "My grades will pick back up and everything will be fine."

Frank shook his head. "Joe and I didn't find out about your grades," he told Patrick. "The police did. You will probably be picked up for questioning soon," he added.

"But you said you believed me!" he shouted, upset.

"I do," Frank assured him. "But the police have to do their job."

"Great," Patrick said miserably. "What are they going to say?" he asked himself in self-despair.

"Want me to stay while you tell them?" Frank asked.

"Tell who what?" asked Patrick's father coming into the room and carrying two glasses of lemonade. "Your mom thought you two might be thirsty," he added to Patrick.

Frank stood up to greet the tall balding man in his early fifties. "Hello, Sir," he said. "I'm Frank Hardy."

"Nice to meet you Frank. Now, tell who what?" he asked again, looking back at his son.

"I'd better be off," Frank said, standing up and shooting Patrick an encouraging look. Frank had seen the look in Mr. Caudill's eyes and it matched the one his father always had when he was concerned about him or Joe.

Frank left the Caudills and decided to stop off at Mr. Pizza where Callie had told him she could be found after school. "Hey! Frank!" a voice shouted at him as he exited the van in the parking lot at Mr. Pizza.

Frank looked over to see who had shouted at him and noticed Stanley, a guy from his French class, waving to him. "Hey!" Frank shouted and waved back.

"Want to go to the exhibit at the museum?" Stanley asked Frank, coming over. "It's the one our French teacher was talking about."

"Thanks," Frank said, "but after I grab a bite, I've got to meet Joe."

"Oh," Stanley said. "I thought he had to work on chemistry with Nathan."

"He does, but it shouldn't take long," Frank told him. "Joe's just doing it to help Nathan out. We have a lab at home where he could do his experiment."

"That's nice of Joe," Stanley said, smiling.

"Yeah, Joe's always trying to help people out," Frank agreed with a frown as he thought about what his brother had been through recently and how unfair it seemed.

"Well, maybe some other time," Stanley said and took off.

"Hi, Nathan," Joe said, coming into his room.

"Nathan looked up as Joe came into the room. "Hey, Joe," he replied. "Mom, Dad, this is Joe Hardy, my lab partner."

"Hello Joe," they greeted him.

"Hello," he acknowledged. "What happened?" he asked Nathan. "Mr. Turnmire said you had gotten injured in gym."

"I hurt my back," Nathan admitted.

"How?" Joe demanded.

"We were running laps in the gym and as I was passing the door where the supplies were stored, all the basketballs and soccer balls came rolling out in front of me. I was going too fast to stop. I thought I was going to break my ankle, but instead, by the time I had landed on the floor, my back was killing me." 


	14. Chapter 14

"Is it broken?" Joe asked, thinking that it hadn't been an accident.

"No, just badly bruised," Nathan admitted. "Sorry about missing our lab experiment."

"Don't worry about it," Joe told him. "Did you see anyone hanging around the gym who shouldn't have been?" he asked.

"I don't remember seeing anyone. Why?" Nathan asked.

"It just seems strange that all those balls would come tumbling out at you," Joe commented.

"Why?" Nathan pressed.

"Our dad taught us that in a mystery there are no coincidences," Joe answered.

"What mystery?" Mr. Little demanded.

"Mr. Johnson was murdered yesterday," Nathan told his parents.

"How terrible!" Mrs. Little said. "Who would have wanted to kill your history teacher?"

"And what does it have to do with someone hurting Nathan?" Mr. Little demanded, staring angrily at Joe.

"I guess I had better come clean," Nathan said in a small voice, causing his parents to turn and look at him in wonder.

"Want me to stay?" Joe offered.

Nathan shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm not proud of caving in, but I'm not afraid to take the consequences either," he said. "And Joe," he added as Joe got up to leave the room. "I didn't kill him. I kind of enjoyed it and getting good grades was a plus."

Joe's stomach clenched, but he nodded and left the room. He went down the hall and got into the elevator, wondering why someone would want to kill Nathan. Johnson he could understand, but Nathan was a victim. A willing victim, apparently, but a victim none-the-less.

Joe headed outside to his motorcycle, groaning when he saw it. Someone had gotten at his tires. 'What next?' he wondered as a pale green Acura pulled up next to him.

"Stanley?" Joe asked in surprise when the driver emerged.

"Hey, Joe!" Stanley said, noticing Joe. "What are you doing here?"

"Nathan got hurt so I came to visit him," Joe explained. "What are you doing here?"

"My grandmother is on the fourth floor," Stanley replied. He did a double take when he saw Joe's bike. "What happened?"

"Someone doesn't like me," Joe said with a grimace. "I guess I'll have to call Frank for a ride home."

"I'll give you a lift," Stanley offered, coming over to stand by Joe.

"That's okay," Joe said, bending over the bike to look for more damage. "Frank won't mind."

"But I do," Stanley said, a gleam in his eye as Joe stood up in surprise and whirled around.

"Huh?"

Joe's vocal demand was met with a right hook, which sent Joe reeling backwards into his bike. The bike crashed to the concrete lot with Joe on top of it. Stanley stood staring down at Joe as he lay unconscious among the metal.

"Is Joe home yet?" Frank asked, coming into the living room where his parents were watching the evening news.

"He stopped in and said he was going to the hospital to visit a friend of his," his mom answered.

"Who?" Frank asked, his face wrinkled in concern.

"Nathan," Mr. Hardy answered. "I don't believe I know him."

"He was one of the suspects Sergeant Talbolt came up with," Frank explained. "Joe was supposed to be working with him on a lab experiment today after school," he added with a frown. "I think I'll run over to the hospital and see how he's doing."

"Okay," Mrs. Hardy said. "Dinner will be ready at seven," she added. "I want you both to be on time."

"We will," he promised, smiling at her. He went outside and climbed in the van and headed over to the hospital. He went to the nurses' station and inquired which room Nathan Little was in. A few minutes later, he arrived at the door.

"Hello," Frank said, poking his head into the hospital room. Nathan lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling while his parents each sat in a chair on either side of him. His mother had been crying and was holding his hand.

"Yes?" Mr. Little asked, looking over at Frank as he entered the room.

"Hi, I'm Frank Hardy," he introduced himself.

"Joe's brother," Nathan acknowledged.

"Right," he admitted. "I was looking for Joe," he added. "I thought he might still be here."

"He left around an hour ago," Nathan told him. "Why?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "Is he in trouble?"

"I hope not," Frank replied, a little worried because Joe should have been home if he had left that long ago. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Nathan told Frank about his accident in gym class. He then added Joe's response to the accident. "Do you think Joe went back to the school to check it out?"

"Knowing Joe, I'd say that is exactly what he did," Frank admitted. "I'd better run and see if he needs any help," he added. "Feel better," he added, leaving.

Frank pulled into the parking lot at the school and looked around for Joe's bike. He didn't see it but he decided to go in and look around the gym anyway. He met Mr. Phillips, the janitor, as he was entering the building.

"It's after hours," he told Frank. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"I know," Frank replied. "But I was wondering if you had seen Joe this evening?"

"Not since he left about three thirty," was Mr. Phillips reply. "Did you expect him to come back?"

"Kind of," Frank admitted with a frown. "There was an accident earlier today near the equipment room," he continued. "I thought he might have come to look around."

"Principal Dylan told me you and Joe would be investigating Johnson's death, but he never said anything about the Little boy's accident," Mr. Phillips said suspiciously.

"There might be a connection," Frank informed him.

"Well then, I guess it's okay if you have a look around. Don't go messing anything up though. I had a hard time getting all that stuff put back"

"You have already taken care of the place?" Frank inquired, disappointed. At his nod, Frank asked, "Did you notice what had caused the balls to go rolling out?"

"Mischief!" Mr. Phillips shouted in disgust. "Some hoodlum had cut the nets holding the balls."

"Where are the nets now?" Frank asked.

"On their way to the dump."

"Okay, then," Frank said with a sigh. "I won't need to go in now. Thanks for your help," he added.

"Anytime," Mr. Phillips said, waving at Frank as he ambled away.

Frank left the school and climbed back into the van. He called home. "Is Joe there yet?" he asked his father when he had answered.

"No," Mr. Hardy answered, his face mirroring the concern his eldest son's was showing across town. "Are you still at the hospital?"

"No," Frank replied and told his father about Nathan's accident and what the janitor at school had told him.

"Come home," Mr. Hardy told Frank.

"But..." Frank began only to be interrupted.

"But nothing," snapped his father. "You don't know where Joe is and there isn't anything you can do until we plan a course of action."

Frank gritted his teeth, knowing his father was right but not wanting to admit it. "I'll be home in a few minutes," he said, finally.

"Mmmm," Joe groaned, moving his head sideways.

"Well, look who has finally rejoined the living," Stanley sneered down at Joe who had his hands tied behind his back.

"St..Stanley," Joe whispered, looking up at him. It hurt his head to look much less think. "What...why.." he kept beginning, never finishing his questions.

"What does it really matter what happened or why I killed Johnson?" Stanley demanded. "You won't care about anything soon." 


	15. Chapter 15

"This just doesn't add up," Frank said, sitting at the kitchen table with his parents as they mulled over the problem. Mr. Hardy had called Chief Collig and reported Joe's disappearance and now they sat wondering what piece of evidence they could have missed.

When the phone rang, they all jumped, startled. Frank reached it first. "Joe?" he asked picking up the receiver.

"No," Stanley said from the other end. "But I know where he is."

"Where?" Frank demanded.

"Meet me at the old skating rink," Stanley told him. "But be quite and come alone. I saw this joker drag Joe in there. We can take him together without anyone getting hurt."

Joe glared at Stanley, shouting it was a trap through the gag Stanley had stuffed into his mouth before making the call.

"We'll be right over," Frank promised.

"We?" Stanley asked.

"Dad and me," Frank informed him.

"It would be better if it were just you," Stanley told him. "If there are too many of us around, he might try and kill Joe."

"I guess you're right," Frank answered, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I'll be right over," he promised before hanging up.

Frank turned to his parents and told them about the call. "Something just doesn't jive," he ended.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"It's just, Stanley just started Bayport High last month and he seems to know a lot about me and Joe all ready," Frank explained. "He keeps popping up trying to shoot hoops with Joe or go to an exhibit or something with me. He never wants to do something with us and the rest of the guys just one or the other of us."

"And he wants you to meet him alone," Mrs. Hardy guessed. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Me either," Mr. Hardy said. "Laura, you call Chief Collig and tell him where we have gone," he ordered his wife. "Frank, take the van. I'll follow you on your motorcycle."

"Right," Frank replied and took off at a run for the door with his dad on his heels.

Stanley reached down and removed the gag form Joe's mouth after he had hung up. "Why?" Joe demanded. "Why did you kill Johnson and try to kill Nathan?"

"Because of Frank," Stanley answered, smiling.

"What?" Joe asked, not understanding what Frank had to do with it.

"It's simple really," Stanley told him. "I fell for Frank my first day here. But every time I tried to get close to him, he always had something to do with you. I noticed you two have the same friends, so I tried to get in good with you, but you never gave me the time of day."

"What does that have to do with killing Johnson?" Joe asked in disbelief. "You thought by killing him Frank would like you because you were looking out for me?"

"Looking out for you?!" Stanley roared, then laughed. "I could have cared less what happened to you. I was overjoyed when Johnson started harassing you. You and Frank fought and he was avoiding you. It was wonderful!" His smile faded and he looked at Joe through narrowed eyes. "Then Frank found out. As much as he cared about you, I thought he would kill Johnson to protect you which would get him in trouble."

"So you took care of Johnson to keep Frank from going to prison," Joe said, understanding. "But why go after Nathan?"

"Why?" Stanley demanded, his eyes flashing, his nostrils flaring. Joe knew this boy had gone completely mad. "You just don't learn! Nathan was shacking up with Johnson. I couldn't let Frank go after Nathan because you were messing around with him now."

"I wasn't doing anything," Joe told him, trying to sound calm and working on loosening his bonds at the same time. "I was just trying to find out if he had killed the teacher."

Stanley kicked Joe in the side. "Don't lie to me! I know what you were doing. And I know you were going to hurt Frank by doing it. I can't keep cleaning up after you, don't you understand that?" he demanded, his face serious, kicking Joe again. "Now, I won't have too."

"You think Frank is going to like you if you kill me?" Joe demanded. "He would never forgive you."

"Oh, but he won't know I'm the one who killed you," Stanley promised, his eyes brightening. "I'm going to kill you and then go outside to wait for Frank. You will be dead and he will be so distraught, he'll lean on me. Before long, I'll be his best friend and you will be just a memory."

Stanley walked over to a nearby table and picked up a large knife. Joe frantically worked on his bonds, slipping a wrist free as Stanley returned. When Stanley came over and raised the knife, Joe kicked up with his feet, and contacted with Stanley's stomach.

As Stanley bent over in pain, Joe scooted back and scrambled to his feet. Stanley stood upright and lunged at Joe with the knife, but, again, Joe was ready for him. He stepped aside and brought down the side of his hand in a karate move, causing Stanley to drop the knife.

Stanley roared in anger and lunged, grabbing Joe's neck in both his hands. Joe fell to the ground with Stanley on top of him but Joe had his knees up and managed to get enough lift to force Stanley over his head, causing him to break his grip.

Stanley leapt to his feet and brought Joe down with a tackle at the waist. Stanley backhanded Joe, causing him to bite his tongue. Blood trickled from his mouth as Stanley grasped Joe's neck again and began squeezing the breath from him.

The door of the rink opened and Frank stood silhouetted in the doorway for a fraction of a second. Frank took in the scene before his eyes and ran to where the two boys were locked in deadly combat. He grabbed Stanley and pulled him off of Joe, cocking his arm as he delivered a right uppercut that sent Stanley reeling backward.

"NO!" Stanley screamed, jumping to his feet again. "You're too early!" he shouted at Frank. "Joe has to die! He's too much trouble!"

"Never!" Frank shouted back, letting fly with another punch. Stanley fell to the ground, not moving.

"Joe?" Frank asked, breathing hard more from anger at Stanley than from the exertion of the fight. "Are you okay?"

Joe nodded and grabbed Frank around the neck, hugging him tight. They were locked in their silent hug when they heard a sound from behind Joe. Stanley had gotten to his feet and retrieved the knife he had dropped when the battle had began. He was bringing it down into Joe's back before he had turned, and now the deadly weapon was moving toward his chest.

A shot rang out and Stanley fell to his knees, his eyes wide as he looked into Frank's. "I only wanted you to love me," he whispered, then fell forward onto Joe and Frank.

"It's over," Mr. Hardy said, coming over to his sons as Chief Collig and two other officers filed in behind him.

Later that night, Frank had just sat down on his bed and was setting his alarm clock when Joe came to the doorway and gently rapped on the side of the frame. Frank looked up in surprise. "Since when do you knock?" he asked.

Joe shrugged. "I thought I'd give it a try," he said lightly.

"Don't," Frank said. "It doesn't become you."

"I'm sorry," Joe told him, coming in and standing in front of Frank.

"For what?" Frank asked, confused.

"For being so much trouble," Joe answered in a serious tone.

"What ever gave you that idea?" Frank demanded.

"Stanley," Joe admitted. "He was right. You are always there to get me out of trouble and to protect me."

"Because I love you," Frank said. "That's not trouble."

"Isn't it?" Joe asked, his blue eyes sad.

Frank reached out and pulled Joe onto the bed beside him. "Let me ask you something," Frank said. "Be honest. If I were the one who needed help, how far would you go to help me? Would it be too much?"

"Nothing would ever be too much for you," Joe replied without hesitation. "I'd do anything for you."

"And you expect me to feel less for you than you do for me?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes searching.

"I see what you mean," Joe said with a grin. "As long as we have each other, we are invincible."

End 


End file.
